Heirloom .... Heritage

This old chest was passed from my grandmothers estate to my father. When my mother sold our childhood home, she moved into a small apartment and didn't have room for all of the furniture and such. This old chest now sits proudly in my living room. I've always loved this chest as it sat in my parents bedroom filled with handmade quilts that kept us warm in the winter. I have no clue where it came from originally. My father passed years ago and with him any information that might have been known about it. It used to have leather handles on the ends which have worn away. Someone told my sister that it could be worth a good bit. However, to me it is only of sentimental value; I would never sell it. The chest was really the only thing (besides pictures) that I wanted out of my childhood home.
My grandmother was really quite the character. She had 'henna' red hair until she died, when I was a child. In today's terms she would be described best as a very imaginative 'drama queen'. Often fraining some illness to get my father or uncle (her only 2 children) to drive one hour from their homes to see her. Only to smile when they arrived. She had 'won' the game. She had an old time name ~ Hattie Mae. Which I have been called throughout my growing years by my mother when we had disputes; due to the fact that my mother and her mother-in-law did not see eye to eye often. I also inherited her 'auburn' hair.
Tonight Leah was having to write a paper about a 'character' in her family. To also tell a story.
Here is a story I told her about my grandmother: My father played football in high school. He actually was the captain of his football team. Apparently at this certain game, he was running the ball when he was tackled by an opposing team player. My grandmother standing on the sidelines, proud I am sure to be watching, ran out onto the field and proceeded to beat the other player over the head with her umbrella because he had tackled her son! Obviously Granny didn't understand the rules of football. I laugh everytime I hear this told. It speaks volumes about my grandmother's personality. She was a short woman, with red hair and the temperament that goes with it! She was something else. When I was a teen, I would get ill when my mother called me 'Hattie Mae', because I knew it was because mother never got along with her very well. Now, I'm a bit proud that I am really a lot like her. Strong, not afraid to speak my mind, sassy, proud and supportive of my children and thankfully not quite looney enough to beat someone over the head with an umbrella ~ yet. *wink*
Every night when I curl up in my recliner to relax after a long day; I sit across the room from this trunk. Not only is it filled with blankets, but it is filled with memories.